Daughters
by TheWhiteCrayon
Summary: Give me a reason to turn and run, give me a reason to burn this house down. Give me a reason for disaster, and I'll be happy ever after. Give me a reason I wish you would. / It's like someone gave me wings and now I'm flying, high above the sky and heavens. It's getting dark around me, but that doesn't matter. To fly is so intoxicating, nothing else matters.-oneshot, jadecentric
't **really know why, but this oneshot was inspired by the song 'give me a reason' by three days grace. Again, I don't even know why, but I was listening to that song, and then I came up with this idea for a story. I'm still not entirely satisfied with it, but, honestly, I don't even care anymore at this point. - I've been working on nonstop this since seven AM this morning, and it's almost three thirty PM here now, so... yeah, I'm done with it :)**

 **Also, if I left any mistakes in there, I'm sorry. I hope you'll enjoy the story.**

 **Disclaimer; I don't own victorious**

It's July 2018 and I'm four months pregnant.

It was never supposed to get this far. I was going to have an abortion. I had already decided that.

But then Beck found the test. And he was so happy.

 _He's always been a better person than I am._

And it was just... impossible to tell him that I didn't even want this. It was impossible to act like I was anything but just as happy as he was.

So, now we're having a baby.

And I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Sometimes, I feel like this is going to ruin everything. I mean, it's definitely going to ruin my figure. Not to mention how scared I am of the delivery.

And the worst part is, this is determining my entire future. For the rest of my life, I will be responsible for somebody else. A little person will soon be depending on _me._

And I'm not sure if I'm ready for that yet -if I'll ever be ready for that. Because I'm just not a very responsible person.

Honestly, I'm rather selfish. I'm used to just... doing as I please. I can't promise that I'll still feel the same way tomorrow as I do today, or if I will even stay in one place for that long.

I don't make promises because I can never keep them.

And promises. Security. Safety. Consistency.

That's what this baby is going to need. And it's everything I'm not.

And I don't know if I can be like that. I don't know if I can be a mom.

Sometimes it makes me feel pretty damn scared.

But, sometimes, it makes me happy. Because, you ought to admit, it's pretty wonderful -there's a tiny person growing inside of me.

And Beck... I love Beck. And I know he loves me. And he seems so sure about this. He really wants to raise a family with me.

I don't know... I guess I just kind of like it, to get to do something _normal_ for a change.

And, despite of everything, I do love him. Her. Whatever.

For some reason, I do love my baby.

I don't think I love it as much as Beck does, tough. Beck talks to my stomach every day. He says that the baby can already hear us, and recognise our voices.

I'm sure that's true. But I just can't bring myself to talk to my own stomach.

But Beck... Whenever he talks about the baby, he just... Shines. He actually shines. Just say the word 'baby', and his entire face will light up. He shines with happiness.

I don't think I could ever love anybody that much.

* * *

It's October 2018 and I'm seven months pregnant.

It's raining outside. I did carry an umbrella while walking in here, but it couldn't protect my long white dress from the raindrops leaving dark stains all over it. I don't really care. I just feel fat and clumsy in it anyway.

We're getting married today. It was Beck's idea. He feels the baby needs a 'real' family. I just don't see the point in spending money we don't have on a party I don't like and a dress I absolutely hate.

But, Beck finds it important, so here we are.

As I'm waiting for maid of honor Cat and best man André to walk down the aisle, I get cold feet. I never thought I would ever get married. I mean, I know there's divorce, but, still. It's a commitment. A promise.

A promise I'm not sure I can keep.

Should I be making it, then? The simple answer is no. But, sadly, my life has never been simple.

For a moment I think about running away. Just turning around and running out the door, never coming back. I know it wouldn't solve anything. But it's still tempting. But, before I can make a decision, my dad grabs my arm.

He smiles at me half-heartedly, and gently pulls me down the aisle. I walk slowly, taking the littlest steps. But it doesn't matter. Because, although slowly, I'm walking into my future. I'm walking into a promise.

One I'm not sure I'll be able to -or want to- keep.

And as the priest is asking who gives this woman, the thing that actually bothers me the most is that I wasn't even allowed to drink on my own bachelor party.

* * *

It's December 2018 and she's two weeks old.

Her name is Sarah. It was Beck's idea. Honestly, I didn't really care what her name would be. I did veto Ruby and December, tough. Sarah was actually just the first name we could come anywhere near to agreeing on.

I don't remember much about the delivery. Just that I was flat on drugs, yet _still_ everything hurt.

When I first got to hold her, she wasn't the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. Honestly, I've never seen a beautiful baby before, and she was no different.

I guess I'm just not cut out to be a parent. But, who would have expected differently?

But Beck... The first thing I saw when I woke up was Beck, holding the baby. Tears were filling his eyes, and a smile light up his entire face. "Look at her Jade." he said. "She's the most perfect thing I've ever seen."

But when I looked at her, all I saw was a tiny wrinkled face, a tiny bold head, and a tiny toothless mouth. It was crying and icky and small -o so small. So small, I was almost afraid to hold her -as if by merely touching her I'd break her.

When I held her she didn't break. But I swear, something inside of me did.

When a tear fell down my face, Beck believed it was out of happiness.

And I let him believe that.

It's five thirty in the morning right now, and she's laying in her crib. And she's crying. And she won't stop. And I'm sitting in the corner of the room, not knowing what to do. She's not hungry, I already fed her. Her diaper is clean, I already checked.

I don't know, I just don't know what to do anymore. I just want it to stop.

Stop stop stop stop stop.

How could something so little produce so much noise?

And she's laying there and I'm sitting here, and she's crying, and I don't know what to do. And I feel so helpless. I feel so useless.

And then Beck walks in and picks her up. He holds her closely to his chest and rocks her gently. She stops crying almost immediately.

"There there." he whispers. He grins at me. "What do you know? She was just looking for a bit of attention." he smiles. I know it's not meant to be an insult, a scold, but it just feels that way.

It feels like I can't do it. I can't be a mom.

"Honey, why don't you go back to sleep for a little longer?" he says. "I'll keep an eye on the princess here." he smiles.

Happiness. This is what happiness looks like.

I just nod and leave the room.

Maybe, I'm just not a baby-mom. Maybe, I'll do better when she gets older. Maybe I'll get used to it. Maybe I'll learn.

Maybe.

* * *

It's April 2023 and she's four years old.

"So you're sleeping with her."

"What? God, Jade don't be such a drama queen!"

"I'm a drama queen? I'M a drama queen?!" I rage. "Did you NOT see her flipping her hair at you? I'M a drama queen?!"

"Jade..." he sighs.

"I'm your wife, god dammit!" I scream.

"Jade, for God's sake!" he yells. "This is ridiculous, you KNOW I'm not cheating on you!"

He's right. I do know that. He's way too good a person to cheat on me. He loves me too much to cheat on me. I don't even know what I'm angry about, but something inside of me can't stop screaming, yelling, fighting.

"Ridiculous?" I yell. "You want to know what's ridiculous?"

"Jade, stop it!" he cuts me off. "Just stop it!"

I don't know why, but I do stop. I turn around and yank the door to the hallway open. I grab my coat, and just before I'm able to storm outside, I hear a little voice behind me. "Mommy!" she sobs.

I turn around to see a little girl sitting on the stairs, hugging her stuffed animal tightly. Her cheeks are stained in tears. "Sarah..." I whisper. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"Mommy, don't leave, please don't leave." She cries. I look at Beck who's standing in the doorway, tears in his eyes.

I look back at my daughter. "I'm sorry, Sarah. We didn't mean to wake you." I say. "Don't be mad at each other." She pouts. "Please don't yell anymore." tears are dripping down her face and I just can't stand to watch it anymore.

"I'm sorry darling. I love you." I whisper.

I turn around and walk out the door.

I love her, alright. I just don't think I love her _enough._

* * *

It's May 2025 and she is six years old.

Beck and I haven't had a fight in months now. Yet somehow I ended up here at my father's house. I don't know, it just got too much. It had been for a while now. But this morning, it just overwhelmed me.

It's a Wednesday, so Beck is working and I'm not. Beck was leaving to take Sarah to school before work, and I was staying home, wearing sweatpants, doing nothing -absolutely nothing.

And it was just... everything, really. The normality of things -that wasn't us, that wasn't me.

And I got angry -at nothing. Tried to pick a fight -over nothing. Because there was nothing. I was nothing. And, well, there had to be _something -anything._ So, if anything, I tried to get us to scream, to yell, to fight... Anything.

But he apologised to me -for nothing. And asked what he'd done wrong -nothing. And then they left and I stayed.

I had better go get dressed, clean the house, do the groceries, because in just a few hours, I would have to go pick up my daughter from school. I'd have to lunch with her, help her with her homework, play games with her. And then, before six, diner would have to be ready, and we would eat together as a family.

And, suddenly, I just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stand the normality -the nothing-. And I left. I just got in my car, and began driving. I drove for hours -going nowhere- before something made me stop at my father's house.

So, now I'm here. Drinking wine before four o'clock. Sitting in front of the man who disfigured me the way I am.

"This is your fault." I whisper. "I know." He says. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." I say. "I'm not gonna forgive you."

"I'm not asking you to." he says. "I'm asking you to understand me. I once felt the same way."

"Well I do." I whisper. "I do understand."

My father slowly nods his head. "For that, I am sorry." he says.

"Don't tell me that you're sorry," I say. "I don't care!"

Some wine spills from my glass and drips down from my hand onto the expensive fabric of my father's couch. I don't care.

"This is all your fault, dad!" I say. "Don't tell me you're sorry, tell me how to fix this."

I whipe away a single tear.

"Just tell me what to do." I say with a thick voice.

"Do you think I know that?" my father asks. "Jade, if I knew that, we wouldn't be here right now." he says. "If I I knew that, I would be with your mother, right now, and you would be with your daughter."

He pauses for a moment. "If I knew that, we would be happy." he eventually says.

I pour myself another glass of wine.

"I do love you, Jade." my father says. "I just hope you know that."

"I do know that, dad." I sigh. "Believe me, I do. You just... have a really shitty way of showing that." I smile bitterly. "But that's okay." I whisper.

"So do I."

It's silent for a long time, after that. I guess there's just nothing left to say. Half way through our second bottle of wine, the phone rings. My father picks it up. "It's Beck." he says. "Do you want me to answer?" I just nod.

"James West." my father says. I can't make out the mumbling on the other side of the line, but he sounds worried. "Yes, she is here." my father says. More mumbling.

"Hold on." my father says. He holds the phone to his chest and looks at me. "He wants to talk to you." he says. I shake my head. "No." Not here, not now, not over the phone.

My dad brings the phone back to his face. "I'm sorry, she doesn't want to speak to you." he says. The mumbling becomes louder, angrier. But also desperate. _"Why?"_ I think I hear him say. _"Why is she doing this to me? What have I done?"_

I can't take it anymore.

"Tell him I'm coming home now." I say. The word 'home' tastes bitter in my mouth. "Tell him I'll be there in twenty minutes." My dad looks surprised. "She says she's coming home." he repeats. "She'll be there in twenty minutes."

He puts the phone down. "You don't have to go." he says. "You can stay as long as you need to." I shake my head. "No, I can't." I say. "I'm not gonna break this family."

Of course I know that I will, eventually. But -for now- I need to keep the illusion that I'm not and I can still fix this, alive a little longer.

* * *

It's November 2036 and she must be seventeen years old.

I did leave, of course. Eventually. I left exactly one year after that conversation with my father. I had to. I couldn't do it anymore.

Motherhood just isn't for me. It never was.

And one day I was just done. I got in my car, and just started driving. I didn't leave a note. There was no use for that. Beck knew why I left -we'd both known this day was coming sooner or later for a long time- and Sarah wouldn't understand even if I did try to explain.

Apologies weren't going to fix what I was about to do, so I didn't try.

I've never been good at saying goodbye -so I wasn't going to. I just left.

I didn't know where I was going, back then. And, I guess I still don't know. I never really figured it out.

I always thought that that was the point. -The whole point of leaving. To figure out who I was, and where I was going -but I guess it wasn't. Because I never did.

I also thought I was going to make a career in music, or writing. But that never happened either. Somewhere in between the parties, alcohol, drugs even, life just passed me by.

I never really expected to find happiness -but I guess deep down maybe I was _hoping_ for it -just a little.

I'm forty two years old now, and my life is over. I don't know what I was looking for, but I never found it.

And now, I never will.

A month _at most_ , the doctor said. That is, without chemo. With chemo, they could probably keep me alive for months longer, maybe even a year. But, why bother? It's not like I've got anything left to live for.

I'm not depressed, or anything -and certainly not suicidal. If I'd live for another thirty, forty years, that'd be fine to. I would find something to pass the time with.

But I'm not sad about dying either. I'm not going to try everything just to stay a few more moments on earth.

I was never happy. I wasn't unhappy, either, but I'm not going to fight for a life that's worthless. Because it is. My life is worthless. I made it so. And it's too late to change that, now, so, why not die?

I'll see what's next when I get there.

Ironically, the cancer didn't start in my liver -from all the alcohol- nor in my lungs -from all the cigarettes. I mean, by now it's everywhere, but it started in my uterus. Simply because that's where my mother's cancer began, and that's how she died. Simply because that was what was genetically decided -even before I was born.

Simply because that was what was supposed to happen to me.

 _Ironically,_ I didn't even have to try to destroy myself. Fate had already done that for me.

I don't know if I'm still entitled to a dying wish, but before I go, I just have to see Beck and Sarah one more time. I'm not sure why. I don't expect them to forgive me -or even understand me. But, I guess I just need to see the only persons in the world who I've ever loved -in the best way I knew how- one last time.

It's been a long journey from Boston to L.A, and it's late when I finally reach the house. _Our_ house, _their_ house -I don't know. It feels naturally weird to be back here, but what I didn't expect was that a tiny part of me -feels _at home._

It takes all of my courage to ring the doorbell, and after what feels like an eternity, _he_ opens the door. Neither of us says anything at first. We just stare at each other. He doesn't look good. I wish I was just saying that out of pride, ego, but it's true. He looks so old, so tired, so _beaten._ He looks nothing like the Beck Oliver I remember.

But I guess I'm not like the Jade West from then, anymore, either.

I'm so skinny my bones are practically sticking out of my body and my lank hair is falling lifelessly down my sunken cheeks and eye sockets.

It's the first time in my life that I realise there's nothing special about us -about _me._ We're ( _I'm_ ) just like everybody else. Slowly growing oder. Slowly losing our grace. Slowly dying.

"Beck" I say, because somebody has to say something sooner or later. "Jade" he whispers.

He even sounds tired.

"Why are you here?" He asks. " Can I come in?" I ask. "I'll explain everything."

For a moment, he seems to hesitate. But then he let's me in.

"Sit down." he says (still _so_ tired) "Make yourself at home." and I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.

I sit down on his couch, and he sits across from me, on a chair I've never seen before.

"You've changed it here." I say. "I like what you've done with it."

Beck nods. "It was Sarah's idea." he says, and I can't help but notice that his face still lights up when he says her name. "She and Cat redecorated the whole place three summers ago."

"Did you ever get remarried?" I ask, fairly out of the blue, because I'm suddenly just wondering.

"No." he shakes his head. Neither did I, I want to say, but something is holding me back.

Maybe it's simply the fact that he didn't ask.

"Jade, what are you doing here?" He asks again. I don't understand. "Why is that the first question you ask?" I ask him. "Don't you want to know why I left?"

He smiles bitterly. "Jade, I know why you left. I've always known, and I've allways known it was going to happen. We both did." he says, and he's right. "We were kidding ourselves when we got married, and thought we were going to be one big happy family. _I_ was kidding myself. I knew you, I knew that wasn't what you wanted."

He pauses to think. "I understand why you left, Jade. But that wasn't any excuse to _abandon_ us -to leave me without even a goodbye -to leave your _daughter_ without a _mother_. And frankly, it's no excuse to suddenly come back now. So that's why the only question I'm asking -the only question I _want_ an answer to- is, why are you here?"

"I know what I did was wrong Beck." I say. "I realise you're not looking for an apology because it's not going to fix anything, but I am sorry. You didn't deserve what I did to you. Both of you. It was selfish, and I'm sorry."

I pause to breathe. "A few weeks ago, I found out I have cancer. Cervical cancer, originally, but it's spreaded through my entire body. I'm dying, Beck." I realise that I've started to whisper, but I can't bring myself to speak up. -Not because I'm afraid of dying, but because I'm afraid he won't care.

"And, the moment I heard, all I could think about was you, and Sarah. I know I have never done anything to deserve the right to get a dying wish, but... I just had to see you again."

When I finally find the courage to look up again, Beck is crying. Tears are rolling down his cheeks, and his entire body is trembling.

"Jade" he whispers. "Jade, Sarah..." he cries.

Then the door to the hallway opens. A girl walks in, leaning heavily on her crutches -but it can't be my daughter. This tiny, bold, skin and bones, barely even human creature can't be my daughter.

"Dad" a tiny, weak, hardly even audible voice whispers. "Dad, what's wrong? Who is this?" she slowly asks. She's obviously struggling to find the energy to stand and speak at the same time. Beck stands up and hurries towards her. He lifts her up in his arms and carries her to the couch. I get up, so she can lay down. "Sarah, what are you doing out of bed?" he whispers as he cherishes her deep sunken cheek. "I was thirsty." She whispers. "What's wrong, daddy?" she asks.

"It's okay, darling." Beck says. "Let me get you a glass of water." he gets up and goes to the kitchen.

"Who are you?" the girl asks softly. But I can't bring myself to answer. "You do remind me of someone." She says. "I'm just not sure who."

At that moment Beck walks back into the room, carrying a glass of water. He sits down next to her, and she leans on him as he carefully helps her drink.

Tears slowly start to fill my eyes because I've never seen cancer as the enemie before -just as a part of life- but now I do. Now I do, because now it's attacking my _daughter,_ even though it was never supposed to -she was never supposed to get _sick,_ or _suffer,_ or _die._ Because she's _my daughter,_ and I was supposed to protect her from all that.

And I failed.

And suddenly I'm crying, for all that and more. For Sarah, and for the cancer, for failure, and for death, for the choices I've made, and for the lives we've lived.

"Sarah..." I choke on my tears. It's been a long time since I've cried -really cried. Years. Decades, even. "Sarah, I'm so sorry." I cry. "It's all my fault."

"Jade..." Beck whispers, and I think that's when it clicks.

"Mom?" the tiny voice (my daughter) whispers.

I whipe away my tears to look into her eyes, and I realise that they're _still her eyes._ They're still _my_ eyes. Sarah looked exactly like Beck. She had his nose, his mouth, his cheekbones, his raven black hair. Now that she's sick, her skin is as pale as mine, but it used to be beautifully tanned, like Beck's.

Just her eyes -those were mine. Those were icy blue.

They were the only thing that was left of her.

"Mom?" she asks again. I nod. "Yes, Sarah." I whisper. "It's me."

It has to take all of her strength, but she stands up, and walks over to me. Before I even know it, she wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight.

"Mom" she sobs. "Mommy. I've missed you."

I help her sit back down on the couch, but she won't let go of me. "What are you doing here?" she asks. "Where have you been? Why did you leave?"

"I'm sorry I left you, Sarah." I whisper. "It was selfish and childish and you didn't deserve it." I say. "But I didn't think I could ever be a good mother to you. You deserved better."

"Well, maybe you weren't a good mother." She says weakly. "And maybe I did deserve better. But when you walked away, you left me with no mother at all."

"I know." I say. "I'm sorry you had to grow up without a mother. And I'm sorry I wasn't there."

It's quiet for a long time before she finally says something.

"I still hate you for leaving us." She admits. "But that doesn't mean I've stopped loving you. And I'm glad you're here now." She grabs my hand. "So I forgive you."

Tears roll down my cheeks. "Why?" I ask. "How can you just forgive me like that?"

I don't understand. I never did forgive my father for doing the exact same thing to me.

She shrugs her tiny shoulders. "Because I don't have time to hold grudges."

"I love you." I whisper.

"I love you too." _My daughter_ tells me.

* * *

It's December 2036 and she would be eighteen years old.

She died two days after the night I came to see her. Only four days before her eighteenth birthday, which was yesterday.

I didn't celebrate it, because she never did turn eighteen. I thought about lighting eighteen candles for her, but I didn't. It would have felt wrong.

Today is her funeral. Beck did everything right. The church, the music, the flowers, the speech... Everything is perfect.

Beck is sitting in the front row, along with his parents, and Cat and André and their two children. He did ask me to sit with them, but I declined. Even if she has forgiven me for abandoning her, that doesn't make it any less true. I'm not going to sit there, acting like I'm her _family._

I may have given birth to her, but Beck has raised her. And I'm not about to sit there and play the part of the loving, mourning mother.

Instead, I waited till the very last moment to sneak in and sit down in the very back of the church.

I look around, to see so many people, crying and mourning _my daughter._ I can only imagine what an amazing girl she must have been.

Right before the beginning of the memorial, my father walks in and sits himself down in the empty seat next to me.

"I'm glad you came, Jade." he says. I nod. "So am I." I whisper.

"Dad?" I ask. "Yes Jade?"

"She forgave me, dad." I say. "I didn't know it was possible, but she did."

My father's eyes are filling up with tears. "I'm glad." he whispers.

"She told me she didn't have time to hold grudges." I say. "She's right dad."

I look up at him. "Dad, I'm sick." I whisper. "Cancer. Just like mom and Sarah."

A tear rolls down my father's cheek. He nods his head slowly.

"How long?" he struggles not to choke on his words.

"A week. Maybe two." I whisper. "Dad, I want you to know that I forgive you."

My dad grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly. "That means a lot, Jade. Thank you." he says.

My father and I leave right after the ceremony.

Just before walk out the door, I see Beck accepting the condolences.

 _He always was better suited for parenthood than I am._

* * *

It's December 2036 and I'm going to die .

I can feel it. I can feel the life leaving my body.

And it's okay.

I'm alone in my room at my father's house. It's early in the morning, but I never went to sleep. I haven't done anything but sleep the past few days. But last night? I wasn't tired at all.

That's how I know -that's how I know I'm dying.

But it's okay.

I'm not afraid of death.

I'm disappointed, tough, that I've spent my entire life searching for something, never to find what I was looking for -never even to find out _what_ I was looking for.

But, maybe, there never was anything at all.

Maybe nothing ever needed to be found.

Maybe there never was _a point_ to life.

Maybe life is just about _living_ it, and then dying.

I can feel my heartbeat slowing down.

I had imagined this to be the moment where I'd find peace, where I'd find comfort in dying.

But it's not.

Instead I suddenly feel the urge to fight for my life -to not give up -to keep on _living._

No. The point of life can't be dying.

But, all that doesn't matter anymore.

Nothing matters anymore.

My eyelids are getting heavier. I can't lift my arms anymore. I begin to float away.

I suddenly feel weightless. And the pain is completely gone.

It's like someone gave me wings and now I'm flying, high above the sky and heavens. It's getting dark around me, but that doesn't matter.

To fly is so intoxicating, nothing else matters.

I'm flying higher and higher, further and further, leaving my body far behind. Maybe that's why I'm weightless. I don't have a body.

But it's okay. It's better this way, nicer.

I keep on flying towards the bright light, because it simply feels like that's where I'm going.

And in my final moments, I wonder if Sarah was given wings, as well, and if maybe we can fly away together.

 **Thank you for reading my story, I hope you enjoyed.**

 **If you can spare the time, please take a moment to review, it means a lot.**


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